


colour me in

by OpportunisticHag



Series: you've already got a notion of what I need [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anxiety Issues, Choking, F/F, F/M, Multi, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn with Feelings, Sexting, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, both strong communication and a strong lack of communication, chapter two is all smut oops, light kink, ptsd mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-12 16:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12963981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpportunisticHag/pseuds/OpportunisticHag
Summary: “You’re my favorite people and I want you to be happy. If that’s together, so be it. If that’s all of us together? That seems pretty amazing to me.”“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself here, Betty Marston. Just because I like him doesn’t mean it’s reciprocated.” Veronica glances to the side and gets a faraway look in her eye. “Oh my god, I’m thirteen years old.”or: Betty and Jughead have the best and worst time dating Veronica Lodge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly plot heavy enough to be canon divergent, but the premise is that these three have been in New York since graduating.

 

When Jughead wakes up from what may have been the most satisfying sleep he’s ever had, he can only hold his eyes open long enough to check the time on his phone. He drops it back on the nightstand and slowly stretches, his stiff body releasing pleasant pops as he groans. He reaches across the bed for Betty in order to haul her back against him, but finds only cool sheets.

Immediately he’s concerned. 6 AM on a Saturday is too early even for the quintessential early bird that is his girlfriend.

When he lifts his head to survey the room he finds her wrapped in one of his sweaters, sitting in the worn armchair next to the window, taking in the view of the city below with a steady stream of tears quietly rolling down her face.

“Betty?” He croaks out, voice thick with sleep, before he clears his throat. She jumps at the sound and makes quick work of patting away the moisture on her cheeks before crossing her arms over her chest. She squeezes her hands against her ribcage as if to hide the evidence, but her loud sniffs betray her.

Jughead rolls out of bed and pads toward the window, kneeling in front of her. He reaches for her slowly, as though she were a skittish animal, and rubs her upper arms gently.

“Why so glum, chum? You look like the stock photo for the cover of a romance novel.”

Betty drops her hands into her lap with a huff, but she still won’t meet his gaze. He hazards a glance at her palms, relieved when he doesn’t see angry marks there.

She gnaws at her bottom lip and Jughead worries that she’ll puncture straight through if she doesn’t stop soon, so he slowly reaches a hand up and presses his thumb to the seam of her mouth, prying her lip from the bite. He sweeps his thumb across her lip and watches the blood rush back through the flesh as he waits patiently for Betty to offer an explanation when she’s ready.

Eventually she turns to face him fully, eyes wet.

“Betts,” he strokes over her jaw and down the column of her throat. “You don’t have to tell me, not if you’re not ready. But you know I want to help, yeah?”

It explodes all at once. The tears are back in full force as she surges forward and suddenly all of her weight is in his lap as she wraps her arms and legs around him, clinging for dear life.

“I love you,” she forces out with a heaving sob. “I love you so much, and I’m terrified.”

“Terrified of what, Betts? What’s wrong?” All of his insecurities that he thought he had laid to rest are flooding his brain – _It’s happening again._ _She finally realized she’s too good for you. She’s going to leave you. She’s in too deep and got too attached_ – but he forces those back to focus on Betty.

“I don’t want to ruin everything, I don’t want you to leave me. I can’t—I _can’t_ do it again.” Her voice is absolutely devastated, but he can’t help that he laughs quietly because the idea of _him_ being able to live without _her_ at this point is absurd.

Betty digs her nails into his shoulder in retaliation and he winces. “Okay, sorry. But I’m fairly certain that whatever it is, I’m not going to leave you.”

“You say that now,” she pouts, voice shaky through her tears.

“Despite your theatrics I’m in this for the long haul, you know that.” He sighs and runs his hand over her back. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, but what can I do? What do you need me to do?”

She shakes her head and tightens her grip. “Okay,” he says quietly. He just keeps rubbing her back, holding her through the rest of her cries.

“It’s Veronica,” Betty finally whispers into his neck.

Oh. Jughead racks his brain trying to think back. Did they have a fight? Had he stepped out of line the night before?

 

 

 

_“So Veronica, huh?”_

_Betty’s whole body tenses. She hadn’t actually thought he would bring it up again outside of the scene._

_Jughead chuckles. “Really? All the things we’ve done and exhibitionism is what you’re embarrassed about?”_

_Yeah, Jug, that’s the issue here._

_“Later,” she mumbles into the pillow. “Sleepy.”_

_She had intended to avoid the topic for as long as humanly possible, but her early morning panic attack had other ideas for her._

 

 

  

She pulls back, and she must read something from his confused expression that he hadn’t even been aware of because her own crumbles while she rushes for an explanation.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

“ _Betty_.” He holds her face between his hands. “Relax, just talk to me. Simple sentences, no assuming what I’m going to think.”

She takes a deep, steadying breath.

“I like Veronica.”

He can’t help that his lips quirk upwards. “Yeah, I gathered that much last night.”

“No, Jug,” she urges, “I’m not just attracted to her, I _like_ her. I have a full-blown crush on her.”

Something deep in his chest twists, not entirely unpleasant. He reminds himself of her worries just a moment ago - she still loves him. He supposes it could have been a lot worse. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Did you think I would be upset?”

“Well, yes,” Betty frowns.

“Come on, I may not have outgrown my teenage self-doubt but I don’t throw a fit and run away anymore.”

She doesn’t look convinced, and she twists her face into the cutest glower he’s ever seen.

“Most of the time,” he corrects.

That at least gets her to crack a smile.

“I mean, maybe I was expecting that you killed someone and needed to go on the lam, so this is a lot easier for me to swallow.”

“Juggie, please be serious.” She avoids his eyes and picks at some non-existent lint on her sweater. “Having a crush on our roommate isn’t exactly par for the course.”

“I am serious. I love you. I tolerate Veronica,” he jokes, and smiles when she gives his chest a light shove. “We can research to your heart’s content but it’s common knowledge that most people aren’t going to be attracted to only one person forever.”

“I know, but there’s a big difference between HBO and when it actually happens in person.”

“So you internalized it until you were so unhinged you were about to become Cameron Frye?”

She bites her lip again but nods.

They’re both quiet for a few moments, Jughead absently twirling her hair while he collects his thoughts.

“Do you want to tell her?”

Betty looks at him completely flabbergasted. “Why would I _tell_ her?”

“For one, she’s your best friend and you’re a terrible liar. Two, if you keep repressing it you’ll end up tearing your hair out – and I just don’t think bald will be your best look.”

Betty shakes her head. “I don’t want therapist Jughead or witty Jughead right now, I want ‘committed boyfriend with a tendency for self sabotage’ Jughead. How do _you_ feel? Honestly.”

“I’m not thrilled about it,” he admits, and Betty goes back to staring at her lap. “But I wouldn’t say I’m worried. Weaker relationships than ours make it through this.”

She’s silent and he can practically see the gears turning in her head, already trying to work her into a frenzy once more.

“And if you do want to act on this, we have the golden rule for a reason.” He gives her side a light pinch to get her attention back on him. “Whatever you need to do or explore, I support you.”

Betty rolls her eyes with a small smile. “We never should have kept using that, seeing as the first time around it got you involved in gang activity.”

"You never know, maybe she’ll trick you into joining your own gang. We can all have matching tattoos. I’ll even let you borrow my bike!”

That gets him a quiet laugh and he grins triumphantly.

“Really think about it, okay? I’m serious.”

Eyes softening, she rests both of her hands on his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” she whispers in earnest.

He feels like that’s debatable, but he lets the thought rest when she kisses him.

  

 

* * *

 

 

  

 Veronica’s uncharacteristically speechless when Betty tells her, which ends up making her more apprehensive than if she had come back with a cruel barb.

“I don’t expect you to—Just think about it before you say anything.”

_She’s literally silent, Betty, get it together._

“Oh god, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’s not like I’m going to prey on you or anything, but if it does make you uncomfortable then I’ll leave. In fact, I should do that now.” She feels the hot shame of tears welling up and stands from the couch to run away as quickly as she possibly can.

Except even as she turns around to leave she still can’t stop speaking and all of her thoughts and worst case scenarios are spinning together and she can hear her own voice getting higher as she’s trying to make sense of them and she feels a little bit like she might pass out.

“I’ll just move out, yeah, Jug and I can get an apartment—no, he deserves to be here—I’ll move back to Riverdale, or jump out the window on my way out of here.” She can’t make her humiliated escape fast enough so that seems like the best option.

There’s a painful tightness around her throat and she wonders if she’ll be considered a medical marvel thanks to the lump there that’s physically cutting off her breathing. The room spins and it’s happening, she’s dying, and her last moment on this Earth is going to be filled with mortified suffering caused by the one and only Veronica Lodge – who is somehow now standing in front of Betty, furious.

Veronica places a firm hand on the back of Betty’s neck and pulls her down, though when her lips land on Betty’s they are light, almost delicate.

Betty gasps in confusion and Veronica takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, teasing her tongue along Betty’s lips. She takes a step closer, pressing their bodies together until there is no space left between them. The hand on her neck travels to caress her cheek and there’s another flattening out against the small of her back. Veronica had grabbed a fistful of her shirt to spin her around, choking her, she realizes.

Betty pulls away slowly – caught between wanting to figure out what the hell is going on, and wanting to keep kissing Veronica for hours.

“Veronica, are—What? Was that a pity—Or…” Her voice fades away when Veronica shakes her head and holds her thumb over Betty’s lips.

“Please stop talking.”

Under normal circumstances, she would give an annoyed roll of her eyes and stand her ground.

But Veronica’s hooded eyes looking at her mouth are _not_ normal circumstances and Betty melts into her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

For the better part of the three years since they’d moved to the city, he and Veronica have had a standing appointment – he’d be remiss to call it a date – at the Museum of the Moving Image.

Jughead had glommed on to her Patron membership the minute he found out about it. To her credit, Veronica had put up with his pestering and brought him as her plus one to every exhibit during their first semester before she gifted him his own membership for Christmas.

(He pulled her into a crushing hug and she laughed by his ear while Betty cried drunk tears into her egg nog.)

They found that it’s too difficult to bicker over the high art though, seeing as when they go separately they end up seeing different exhibits. They’d never acknowledge it out loud but the bickering is half the fun.

So, once a month he waits awkwardly outside the Vera List Center until Veronica’s class lets out. They make the trek to Queens together, chit chatting about the events of the day.

Today they’re silent the entire walk to the subway station. It isn’t until their train is pulling away and they find seats that Veronica turns her whole body towards him, sucking in a large breath like she does whenever she has an unnecessary announcement.

“I figure she told you.”

Jughead nods. “She told me.”

“I want to know what you really think, and I want to hear it from you yourself.”

“You want me to give my verbal permission for you to fuck my girlfriend? Because—”

“I don’t want to ‘ _fuck your girlfriend_ ,’ Jughead,” Veronica interrupts, miffed. It draws the attention of other passengers sitting nearby, and she crosses her arms with a huff.

He sighs at her scowl. He knows that she’s in the right, they _do_ need to talk about it, but he’s barely been able to form his own thoughts since his girlfriend started dating their roommate.

“Betty’s the love of my life,” he says easily, because it’s true. “Not to be dramatic, but it would probably destroy me if she had wanted to break up with me to date you. But she didn’t.”

Her face softens, and they’re both quiet for a moment.

“I’m not opposed to it,” he says carefully.

“Are you upset about it, though?” She prompts. “Even I don’t want you to stew in your own anguish over this.”

“Aw, Ronnie,” he teases lightly, “Are you worried about me?”

She throws him for a loop when she rests her hand on his forearm and, with full sincerity, replies, “Yes.”

He swallows and turns his attention to the train floor.

“She doesn’t want to do this if you’re going to get hurt,” she reminds him gently. “Neither do I.”

“And I don’t want my irrepressible inferiority complex to hold you both back from being happy.”

Jughead glances up and watches as her sculpted brows knit together in confusion.

“What? Is that—You think you’re _not good enough_?”

Kill him. Please god, kill him; he doesn’t need a dozen strangers eavesdropping on the pending therapy session this conversation is about to turn into.

“Almost always.” He tries to play it off with a strained laugh but it’s obvious she’s not going for it.

“That’s honestly moronic.”

Okay, well, same old Veronica.

“I’m serious! God, Jughead. It’s ingrained in my soul to be prideful but what could I possibly have that makes me _better_ than you?”

Money, power, ludicrously good genes--

“Everything you’ve been through together? I _couldn’t_ replace you, nor would I ever want to.”

Her words ease the ache in his chest somewhat, and he tries to hold onto them for when he inevitably needs a reminder.

“Okay?”

Jughead blows out a long breath. “Okay.”

Veronica gives his hand a firm squeeze.

“I just—I just want to be kept up to speed with you guys. If it’s not weird.”

“Done,” she immediately agrees, but he shakes his head.

“I don’t need a play by play of what you guys do,” he clarifies. “I don’t need to keep her on a leash to know she still loves me.”

“That could be hot, though,” she jests, and Jughead barks a laugh.

Veronica shoots him a smile, and they spend the rest of the trip in a companionable silence. When they exit the station and make their way out to the street, she hooks her arm through his.

“You’re a pretty good boyfriend, Jughead Jones.”

“If she does leave me for you, you’re paying for my future therapy.”

Veronica’s loud cackle draws stares from pedestrians walking past them, but when Jughead looks down and sees the hopeful look on her face, he can only grin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 It’s one of the few free weekends that Betty is granted. No schoolwork, no deadlines, and Veronica insisted they celebrate by going to some new club opening in Chelsea.

She can’t complain—it’s great to be able to let loose with no consequences to her workload for once. She and Veronica dance to countless somber songs mutated into upbeat house remixes, sneaking kisses here and there when they can’t help themselves.

The problem is that she knows she gets handsy when she drinks.

She doesn’t realize that it’s going to become an issue until they’re sitting on a fancy lounge separated from the crowd by a literal velvet rope.

A light sheen of sweat coats the two of them and they try to catch their breath. Betty gulps water like her life depends on it while Veronica checks her phone, occasionally exhaling through her nose at something amusing.

At one point she turns the device to face Betty to show her something, but Betty’s eyes can’t focus on the image so she stares at her girlfriend instead.

“You’re pretty,” Betty whispers in drunken awe.

The corners of Veronica’s mouth turn up at the simple compliment.

“And you’re radiant,” she replies, then gives her a quick peck on the lips.

Betty doesn’t think that’s enough, though, so she cradles one side of Veronica’s face to pull her into a slow kiss.

Her mind registers that she has no control over her body as her hand inches up the other girl’s thigh, dangerously close to where her skirt has ridden up since they sat down to rest. Through sheer force of willpower Betty tears her mouth away to pull in a quick breath.

“Can we go home? I want to go home.”

Veronica nods immediately and her thumbs fly across the screen of her phone. She orders a car to pick them up at the door and accepts the surge pricing without complaint. They have places to be.

Even sitting in the small backseat as they drive home is torture. Betty’s hands itch to touch Veronica, and she physically sits on them in order to avoid doing anything indecent behind their driver.

It isn’t until they make it inside the apartment that Betty can breathe a sigh of relief, and she reaches for Veronica’s waist. Veronica spins them, backs her up against the door, and kisses the life from her.

Veronica’s hands mold to her chest over her shirt and Betty whines at the lack of stimulation through her clothes. Her hands drop to grasp her hips instead, as she wedges her leg between Betty’s own. Veronica pulls at her hips continuously, effectively forcing her to ride her thigh.

She rains kisses down the slope of Betty’s neck, pausing every so often to nip at the flesh and soothe the bites with her tongue until Betty whimpers, “Bedroom, bedroom, please.”

They lose their coats and shoes on the way, Betty hobbling down the hallway in one boot.

Somehow they make it into Veronica’s room without falling, and they giggle quietly as they struggle to help each other out of their party clothes. Betty has to lie down to try to pull her own tights off and she quits when only one of her legs is free, the fabric all tangled around her foot. She’s seconds away from asking for help when Veronica pulls her dress over her head so she decides it can wait.

Priorities.

Veronica had foregone a bra and Betty tries to do anything other than just stare dumbly at her chest when she straddles her torso.

She grabs Veronica by her legs and switches their positions, the other girl landing on the sheets with a soft ‘thunk’, her hair fanned out on the pillows. She raises a challenging brow in response to the rough treatment, and Betty shrugs innocently.

Her hands map across Veronica’s abdomen and come to a stop at her chest. She arches slightly into the touch, and Betty mouths across the swell of a breast, tongue circling her nipple.

It’s like she’s having an out of body experience when she kisses her way down Veronica’s body, and she only comes back to herself when reaches the lace trim of her otherwise simple panties.

“I don’t actually know what I’m doing,” Betty admits.

A look comes over Veronica’s face that makes her look dumbfounded and fiercely enraged all at once. “If Jughead hasn’t—”

“No!” Betty laughs. “He has. Believe me, that’s never been a problem.”

“So do what he does and we’ll go from there.”

She can work with that.

She eases Veronica’s underwear down and off and replaces the cover of fabric with her fingers. She moves her hand in slow circles and Veronica’s hips rock up to meet her.

Betty slides her middle finger into her with a kiss to her knee, and Veronica tucks her chin. She places her arms behind her to lean back on her elbows so that she watch Betty work, and Betty feels heat rush to her cheeks unwittingly.

She pulls her hand back to add her ring finger, and the ache between her own legs pulses when she feels how hot and tight Veronica is.

The girl in question bites at the corner of her lip when Betty pushes her thighs apart to get closer. When Betty tentatively licks at her, Veronica is still watching closely. If anything she tries to lean forward for a better look.

She’s so soft, and wet, and Betty can hardly believe she’s actually allowed to touch her like this.

Betty drags her tongue from her fingers in a long, flat line up to Veronica’s clit. She scissors her fingers inside her, and Veronica mewls before her breath starts coming out in shallow little puffs. She cants her hips closer so Betty focuses in on the motion of running her tongue through her folds, intermittently pausing for another gentle flick against her clit.

“A little faster,” Veronica pants.

She obeys for a moment, speeding up her tongue to lap at all the arousal she finds. The thick muscle in Veronica’s leg twitches under her.

When Betty latches her mouth over her clit and sucks, Veronica looks pained. Her eyes squeeze shut and she tosses her head back, arching further into Betty’s hand.

She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, so she sneaks her free hand up through Veronica’s legs to cup her breast and Veronica hums in appreciation.

Then Betty sucks just a little harder at the same time she crooks her fingers, and Veronica makes a series of garbled noises.

“Oh, B, fuck—I’m gonna come,” Veronica keens above her.

She tangles her hand in Betty’s hair to hold her in place and Betty works her through it, doing her best to keep a steady rhythm as Veronica writhes on the sheets. Her whole body tenses and she pulls at Betty’s hair painfully, but it’s worth it to see, and feel, how Veronica comes, and Betty determines that it’s one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

So Betty doesn’t stop, keeps fucking Veronica until she forces another orgasm to quickly crash through her. Veronica pulls at her arms to drag her back over her body, and she twists them both so that she straddles Betty once more.

Veronica searches her face, eyes wild as she stares down at her, and Betty tucks a black curl behind her ear.

“I am going to buy him _so_ many burgers,” she vows. She dips her head for a harsh kiss and lets out a quiet moan when she tastes herself on Betty’s tongue.

“I don’t know how he does that all the time,” Betty blushes. “My whole face is tired.”

Veronica peppers kisses across her chin and down her neck. “You get used to it.”

She shivers when Veronica’s hands clutch her hipbones.

“Let me show you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He’s not jealous per se.

Because for the most part, things haven’t changed. Betty and Veronica have been touchier in the weeks since they started having sex than they had been before, but that’s relatively easy to swallow.

He _is_ slightly envious of the new relationship energy build up that sometimes leaves him out in the cold.

They hang out on their own more often, and they do invite him along sometimes, but he doesn’t want to be the third wheel to his own girlfriend.

He doesn’t push them away so much as he isolates himself, blowing the two of them off as much as he can stand before he admits to himself that he misses the connection they all have.

He repeats the pattern until one day he watches hurt flash across Betty’s face because of him.

It’s a morning they all had free since Betty wasn’t due at work until the afternoon. Jughead was brushing his teeth when she came up behind him and snaked her arms around his middle.

 _We planned a huge breakfast,_ she’d said _, Veronica insisted on Mimosas but I hate champagne so I got ingredients for Bloody Marys and I know you probably won’t drink but just in case Veronica got some Jameson if you want Irish coffee but the real star here are the_ **four** _different kinds of pancakes I’m whipping up while Veronica handles eggs and you’re on bacon duty just don’t eat it all before we even sit down._

She stepped around him and he focused on rinsing the toothbrush and putting it back in its place on the vanity.

“Can’t.”

The only thing he _couldn’t_ do was think of a bullshit excuse when her face dropped, so he left without another word.

Okay, whatever, it’s his own fault. He can’t let go of his guilt but he also doesn’t know how he could explain it to either of them.

The way Betty carries herself is lighter, no longer weighed down by one of the heavier stressors she was handling alone. He does feel ashamed because of that. That it took him so long to figure out how much she was hurting—no, that it took so long for her to be able tell him. He certainly hadn’t figured anything out, or noticed anything strange before it could start tearing her up inside. Now that she’s seeing Veronica she seems more carefree, and he can’t help but feel like he kept holding her back from being happy after all.

He spent the majority of the day in a library on campus, pretending to himself that he could get some work done. Even if he had been in the right headspace for anything other than staring at a blank document, Veronica didn’t stop sending angry texts that would pop up as incessant iMessages on his computer anyway.

 _At least one of them cares about how their girlfriend feels_ , he’d thought, and that’s when it registered how much he’d fucked up.

He’s starting to be able to eventually recognize the self-sabotage, so, y’know, character growth.

That’s what Jughead tells himself when he illegally parks his bike outside Betty’s office building that evening.

He thumbs through his phone until her shift is over, and she doesn’t make it down for another 15 minutes after that.

He sees Betty in the crowd before she notices he’s there. She holds her coat tight around body, face already set into the scowl she adopted when they moved to the city—“Necessary for every woman in New York,” Veronica had instructed—but her eyes light up when she spots him.

“Hey!”

A shy smile breaks out across his face when she hurries over to him. She winds her arms around him, slipping through the open front of his jacket.

“I missed you,” her muffled voice says into his neck.

“I know I was a dick but I just saw you this morning,” he chuckles.

“ _I missed you_.” She repeats and he knows she doesn’t just mean this morning.

That’s the catalyst for why he explains his behavior in simple terms there outside her office—he thought he would at least be able to beg off until they got home, but Betty Cooper deserves the world and he’s barely been letting her into his.

So he spills his guts, his selfishness and insecurity finally rising to the surface all too late. Betty clutches his hands and her eyes become glassy over the course of him explaining his rationale.

“Jug…”

“I’m working on it?” he tries, but she’s not impressed.

“ _We_ should be working on it,” she stresses, “together.”

“I know.” He does. “I’m sorry.” He is.

 

 

 

Veronica shoots daggers at him when they get home before she notices Betty close behind him.

He holds his hands up in surrender and gives her a quick recap of their conversation—including an anecdote of how passersby examined the situation before they would quickly avert their gaze, making him acutely aware of how much they must have looked like a couple on the verge of a public break up. She fakes a laugh and he sees a biting remark forming on her lips, but she holds her tongue.

Jughead offers to cobble together some sort of late dinner to set about making up for that morning and Betty eagerly accepts. When she heads to their bedroom to change out of her uncomfortable work clothes, he apologizes to Veronica privately in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, I know Betty was really excited this morning. And I threw a wrench into her plan so that probably threw off her whole day, and then yours by association.”

Veronica nods slowly, a medley of emotions swirling in her eyes before she blinks and looks away.

“Yes, well, as long as Betty forgave you,” she says cooly. She brushes past him but he catches her elbow, turning her back around.

“I mean it, Ronnie. We’re good, you don’t have to go full _First Wives Club_.”

Veronica glares at him in shocked disbelief.

“What?”

“You act like we’re not friends too, you asshole,” she spits.

“I’m—I don’t,” he stumbles over his words, surprised by the level of venom in her voice. “I’m sorry—”

“For what?” She leans against the refrigerator, immaculate nails perched on her hip. “Please, enlighten me.”

“Uh.” Jughead suddenly feels very ill-equipped for this conversation.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely still furious with you because you won’t communicate until after you’ve already thrown a tantrum. Existential angst is a good look when you’re closer to fifteen, not twenty-five.”

“I wouldn’t say it was a tantrum…” He trails off when she narrows her eyes at him.

“Maybe I’m an airhead for thinking—” Veronica presses her lips together, doesn’t finish the thought, and starts over.

“I’m in this, Jughead, whether you like it or not. I thought that after all this time you would have warmed up to me by now, but you still act like we’re still friends out of convenience. I’m worth more than that. Clearly you disagree, but I am.”

Jughead wants to fight her on that interpretation but he doesn’t have the solid ground to stand on. He also wants to hug her, wrap her up like he would Betty and mumble soft words into her hair.

He isn’t sure about how well he would be received, though, and he doesn’t want to take the chance when she’s standing so close to the knife block. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You’re right,” he concedes, and the look of pained resignation that comes over her face has him rushing to correct himself. “About how I’ve been treating you, not what I think about you.”

“Nice save,” she whispers.

“Ron, you know I love you, right? You’re one of my best friends.”

She shoots him a _look_ , and he rolls his eyes with a small smile. “Fuck you, I mean it. Hell, Veronica. Sometimes you doubt yourself more than I do.”

“We’re both gluttons for punishment.” Veronica blinks rapidly a few times before she closes her eyes altogether. “There’s some fresh salmon in the crisper,” she says pointedly, and hurries over to the sofa when Betty finally emerges.

Jughead sighs and pulls out his phone so he can try to find a recipe he can follow without burning the apartment down.

(He only blackens one fillet, which he shoves into his mouth so the girls can’t find any evidence.)

And he even does the dishes.

 

 

 

“Do you want to watch a campy B-movie with us?” Betty looks up at him with wide eyes and forms her bottom lip into an exaggerated pout.

He considers declining, wary of straining the tentative truce with Veronica, but she impatiently gestures back and forth between himself and the empty seat next to the blonde. “Hurry up, we’re watching it on basic cable like savages so we won’t be able to pause.”

“All right, all right,” he drops next to Betty and positions his arm along the back of the couch to settle in. “What’s on the docket?”

The three of them are relentless through the entire runtime of _Cry of the Banshee_. Their cycle of constant riffing and ensuing crowing have them missing large chunks of plot, and Jughead’s starting to get a painful stitch in his side from laughing.

He’s hyper-aware of Veronica’s hand intermittently bumping against his when she twirls a strand of Betty’s hair between her fingers. He’s also aware of how uncomfortable it _should_ be but _isn’t_ , and that maybe it’s about time that he tries to fucking relax.

Vincent Price’s family members are being systematically picked off by witches and demons, and Betty yawns and curls into his chest. He wraps his arm around her back, dropping his hand further to squeeze the curve her hip.

Veronica turns to cuddle up against Betty’s back, and throws her arm around Betty’s waist, effectively trapping his hand between them.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, but doesn’t move away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Veronica’s mother beckons her to a family brunch—which she was ecstatic to attend to offset the previous day’s missed Mimosas—so Betty and Jughead settle in for Saturday morning cartoons.

(“It’s Sunday, Jug.”

“It’s also Netflix, not ABC’s _One Saturday Morning_.”)

She had thrown on a modern house dress but Jughead had protested getting out of his pajamas, declaring that he refused to dishonor the aesthetic of a time honored tradition.

The only hiccup there is that they’re very… tactile.

So it’s not out of the ordinary for them to end up making out on the couch like teenagers while Judy wins a date with Jet Screamer.

It’s nothing scandalous; Jughead’s hand runs the length of her leg tenderly, back and forth between her knee and her hip, dragging the hem of her dress as he goes.

But she can feel him already hard between her legs and she barely contains herself—she wants to bring her hand between them and take him apart until he begs her to stop.

Instead she peels his sweater up and off, tossing the garment somewhere behind her, and sighs when she can finally touch his skin.

“What do you want me to do to you today, Juggie?”

“God, whatever you want.”

She likes the sound of that.

Betty sits up properly to lean back against the couch cushions and guides Jughead to the floor. He rucks the skirt of her dress up around her waist when he kneels, scattering kisses across her skin as it’s revealed.

Jughead takes advantage of her position for the time being and, without breaking eye contact, slowly bends one of her legs upward. She raises a curious brow but nods for him to continue, and only after he’s granted permission does he look away. He admires the backs of her legs, the fading discoloration from their most recent _therapy session_.

She knows yellowing bruises still linger where her thighs meet her ass, and Jughead’s fingertips trace the marks reverently. He leans forward to leave featherlight kisses across the mottled skin and she smiles at the sweet gesture.

“What did Veronica have to say about these?”

The mention of her throws Betty off, and it’s obvious Jughead can tell. He has a smug expression she wants to knock right off his stupidly cute face.

He leans closer to lick at her through her underwear and Betty stutters out a slow breath.

“She—she said she wants to be there next time.”

Jughead groans against her – she files that tidbit away for later – and the vibrations shoot straight through her body. She kicks at him lightly to get him to move back, and together they clamber to pull down her underwear. Much like she had with his shirt, he flings her panties away carelessly.

He spreads her legs to either side of him, but Betty has a better idea and slides one of her legs over his shoulder. He grins up at her and something in her heart flutters when he brings his hand up to caress her hip.

Jughead moans when he finally gets his tongue on her, and Betty bites back a smile. He doesn’t tease now—he presses his mouth directly against her and his tongue slides along her slit. He drags the wetness up to her clit and sucks, pressing his face impossibly closer, and she cries out.

She trails one hand up her abdomen, coming to a stop at her chest. She watches Jughead’s eyes darken as she palms her breast, pinching a nipple between her fingers.

He’s relentless while he licks at her clit, and she moans loudly when he slips two fingers deep inside her.

If she’s honest, she has a newfound appreciation for how he loves to go down on her, but it feels too good and she doesn’t want to come yet—she wants to savor the feeling without having to rush.

“Slow down,” she warns.

Jughead doesn’t listen, instead curls his fingers and her hips buck towards him despite herself.

Betty twines her fingers through inky waves and pulls sharply which only results in Jughead moaning against her again. She rolls her eyes and tugs again, this time with a firm, “No, off.”

He lets loose another quick groan before he hangs his head, panting against her inner thigh. His face leaves a shining trail against her skin.

“Juggie, why are you here right now if you’re not going to listen to me?”

He tightens his grip on her hip and she can’t help but clench around his fingers. He keeps pumping them slowly, and this is all she had wanted in the first place, but she does love to torture him so. She watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

She smiles at the pet name and cards her fingers through his hair. She leaves light scratches across his scalp, and his eyes flutter closed.

Betty nods, mostly to herself, and lets him go.

Jughead nuzzles her thigh, his free hand stroking her hamstring idly, before he centers himself once more.

His technique is methodical, almost disciplined even though his greedy mouth is craving more. Slow, lazy licks with the flat of his tongue now feel torturous.

Betty curses herself for interrupting him.

She knows it’s agony for the pair of them—Betty chases a delayed orgasm that’s her own fault while Jughead practically trembles with the effort of not devouring her.

“Please—I’m sorry—more,” she chokes out, and when Jughead glances up she sees something that looks a lot like relief.

Her body jerks of its own volition when he pushes his tongue in alongside his fingers. He actually growls and she’d laugh if she weren’t otherwise indisposed.

He pushes on the back of her leg for a better angle and she hisses at the pain, but then his mouth focuses on her clit and time loses all meaning.

He doubles his efforts, suckling in tandem with the push and pull his fingers.

A gentle graze of teeth over the bundle of nerves right as he squeezes tight on one of the still-tender bruises has her gasping, “ _Fuck_ , Jug.” She shoves her hands back in his hair, rocking against his face when she comes.

He only pulls away from her after she lets go. He swipes his forearm across his face and a dopey grin makes its way across her own. She leans forward to kiss him and he surges up to meet her in the middle.

They’re torn apart when they hear the deafening sound of pointed heels clacking across the floor.

“Sorry, just need to grab something! Be gone in a jiff!”

“Oh my god, Veronica,” Betty all but shrieks. “How long have you been here?”

She scrambles to right her clothes; futile since both of the other people in the room have already seen her naked, but alas.

Veronica comes to a stop behind the couch, evidently finished with the idea of ‘being gone in a jiff’ as she leans on her elbows against the back of the furniture.

“Just, like, ten minutes.”

Betty cranes her neck and stares at her incredulously.

“I didn’t want to interrupt!”

“So you hang out like some creepy voyeur?” Jughead sits back on his heels and shoots her a disbelieving look.

“Well, yeah, it was hot.” Veronica shrugs.

“Don’t _do_ that, Ron.”

“Don’t have sex in the living room,” she counters.

Jughead rolls his eyes and finally stands, looking around for his sweater.

“Although it was a lovely picture to come home to,” Veronica says in a low whisper against her neck.

Betty can feel heat spreading across her face and she tilts her head back to catch Veronica’s grin. The other girl is preoccupied though, shameless while she watches Jughead pull his shirt back over his chest. His pajama pants slung low on his hips do little to hide his erection straining against the fabric.

“Happy to see me?” Veronica quips when he sits next to Betty.

He drops a throw pillow in his lap to cover himself and crosses his arms petulantly. “Fuck off.”

Betty snorts and pats his leg, and Veronica heads in the direction of her room. She emerges only a few seconds later, sunglasses in hand.

 _Sunglasses_ of all things being why she desperately needed to run home.

She ruffles Jughead’s hair as she passes behind them once again, and he scowls at her figure heading for the door.

“You kids have fun now,” she sings over her shoulder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They fall into an easy rhythm.

Of course, there are small snags. They _all_ know their years of PTSD aren’t going away overnight, so his fear of abandonment and rejection occasionally send him retreating into himself until Betty and Veronica help bring him around again.

He’s still learning, thank you very much.

Everything starts to go to shit when he’s coerced into going to a party hosted by some woman with a name not dissimilar to Cicada or Grasshopper.

 

 

 

“Jones!”

Jughead rolls his eyes and closes the lid on his laptop. Whatever she wants, it’s not like she’d let him keep typing.

“You’re my date tonight.”

She’s no-nonsense, that Veronica Lodge.

“Veronica—”

“There’s a soirée in Midtown and I may as well wear sweat pants if I stroll in with no date.”

“ _Veronica_ —"

“Ah, ah, ah. You still owe me for being a tool.” Fuck. “I already asked Betty, and she has to work late tonight so she volunteered you to take her place.”

He rolls his neck to rest his head over the back of the couch with a dramatic flourish. “Didn’t you trade in Midtown soirées for smoking pot with that girl from your pretentious class about _time_?”

“That’s part of the problem. Please. Jughead.”

It sounds like the words bring her physical pain, and Jughead sits up straight.

She cringes and avoids his eyes when she confesses, “I haven’t played New York Socialite in a long time and it would be nice to have someone in my corner.”

Jughead can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen her nervous to go to a social gathering, so his resolve is quickly crumbling.

He heaves a sigh and gives a resolute, “Fine.”

When Veronica looks at him through her lashes, it’s with a relieved smile like she hadn’t really expected him to say yes.

She actually _skips_ over to the hall closet and produces a garment bag that he had assumed was protecting one of her ridiculously lavish dresses. Instead, when she lowers the zipper and drapes the covering over the couch, a crisp suit pokes through. Jughead is practically compelled to examine it, reaching for the fabric as Veronica stands by, beaming. He inspects the pieces individually, as if he knew the slightest bit of information about fashion and could base his opinion on anything other than always choosing the first thing he finds that fits. But the fabric quality alone is unlike anything he’s ever worn, and there is not a doubt in his mind that it was created by an acclaimed designer he had never heard of.

Apparently his silence is enough for her, because she pivots on her heel and starts toward her bedroom. “I know, you’re welcome.”

She actually blows him a kiss on her way, but Jughead is still preoccupied by the contents of the bag.

“How long have you known that I’m supposedly going with you?”

Veronica stops in her tracks. She turns slowly, and her poker face is nowhere to be found because she knows she’s been caught. “Hm?”

“This is, like, my exact size.”

“Oh, what a coincidence.”

“It literally has ‘JJ III’ monogrammed on the label.”

“Fancy that.”

He stares at her impatiently until she gives in.

“So _maybe_ I went through your room to find the things that fit you best. No big deal.”

Jughead disagrees, but she plows right on through any argument he would have had anyway. “Don’t worry, I didn’t look in your sex drawers.”

He hadn’t actually been worried about that, but the fact that she knew of more than one sex drawer suggested that maybe he should have. He cocks a brow but stays silent.

“Whatever, you two are some of the kinkiest freaks I know, that’s old hat.” She waves her hand dismissively.

“Veronica,” he warns.

“Fine! I told Betty, like, a month ago.”

“So why didn’t you tell _me_ a month ago?”

“Because I knew you would find an excuse to get out of it.”

Fair point.

“You already agreed, and no take backs. Chop chop.”

 

 

 

Veronica’s never-ending preening does her well, because by the time he’s donned the new monkey suit, she’s already dressed to kill in a black cocktail dress that fits her like a second skin.

She’s suspiciously quiet as her eyes slowly rake him in. Suddenly he’s 15 again, sitting on Betty’s bed, silently begging for outfit approval from a pretty girl while he dies inside from insecurity.

He’s broken out of his brief reverie when Veronica clears her throat.

“Very Paul Newman,” she concludes with a nod.

That’s when he starts to get an inkling that he’s fucked.

 

 

 

She rattles off the context of the battlefront they’re walking into but the blood already pounding in his ears makes it difficult to listen.

When the elevator doors open, Veronica waltzes into the penthouse like this is her party and all of the guests are her closest friends. Jughead staggers a few feet behind with his hands in his pockets.

Veronica does the cursory introduction to the host– _Cricket,_ for fuck’s sake–for his benefit, and his eyes rake over his peers for the night. Buff guys who would have messed with him in high school but have grown enough to have a sense of propriety. Beautiful women who evoke a phantom memory of The Old Veronica™ he never knew. All sizing him up and dismissing him at once.

He can’t breathe.

Veronica is the perfect guest, of course. Socializing with old friends and networking with those she’s introduced to. Occasionally she drags him by the hand to a new cluster of people, and he just tries to keep himself busy by finding a new variety of hors d’œuvre.

Once he’s positive he’s run out of options, Jughead attempts self-medicating by casually chugging flutes of champagne as cater waiters pass by.

It ultimately triggers the sensory overload he’d been trying to avoid, so he leans close to Veronica and mutters, “Be back in a minute,” before he takes off.

He escapes to the balcony and revels in the open air. He’ll happily freeze out here alone rather than suffocate in the crowd.

He’s getting the telltale itch in his throat and he shakes his head before reaching for his half empty pack of cigarettes. If—when—Betty finds out, she’ll be pissed.

(“Inhaling tar isn’t going to help you breathe in a crisis, Jug!”)

He manages to get through three before his bubble of safety pops and the raucous noise of the party spills onto the balcony.

“There you are!” Veronica snaps.

Jughead doesn’t turn to her, just hangs his head because he really does not want to have a fucking conversation about this right now.

“You have to—” She speaks quickly and sounds disgruntled, but then mumbles a quiet, “Oh,” and he’s left to beautiful silence again when she closes the doors. He figured she would leave him in his solitude, but he lets go of a shaky breath when her heels click closer to him.

He doesn’t acknowledge her presence other than turning his head to blow his next cloud of smoke away from her.

“Don’t tell Betty.”

“I’ll let you have this one,” she promises.

To his astonishment and relief, Veronica doesn’t push him to talk. She doesn’t even ask the standard, ‘ _what’s wrong?_ ’ She stands next to him and bumps her shoulder against his, looks out to the city below.

“I know it’s part of the human experience to rub elbows,“ Jughead muses. He exhales a thick cloud and flicks burnt ashes over the railing. “Further evidence that soon enough I’ll be dreaming of electric sheep.”

Veronica looks like she’s chomping at the bit to address the issue, but ultimately decides against it. At some point she pulls out her phone and taps away. It should be rude but he finds it’s more of a comfort than if she had tried to hug him or something.

He doesn’t know how long they spend out there in their private silence, ignoring the muffled party sounds that escape through the French doors. He butts out his last cigarette on the railing and flings it out into the ether that is New York smog.

“Sorry, I know you want to be in there with everybody. You don’t have to babysit me.”

Veronica locks the screen and drops her phone back into her purse. “Let’s get out of here, Torombolo.”

“I think I’m okay now—”

“We’re _going_. I don’t need these people.”

The breath is nearly stolen from him again when his brain supplies, _But you need me?_

 

 

 

Rather than calling her usual car, Veronica decides that they’re going to stroll up the avenue. Jughead just wants to go home and fall into bed, but she insists that she can lift his spirits.

For possibly the first time in her life, she’s prattling on about the irresponsibility of showing off wealth and splendor when she suddenly turns and pulls open the door of a storefront—a small diner. “It’s no Pop Tate milkshake, but she makes a mean cheesecake.”

Veronica chooses a booth and passes him one of the menus that had been resting by the window.

A young waitress approaches with a smile and asks, “Can I get you anything to drink while you decide?”

Before he can say anything, Veronica jumps in. “I’ll have coffee, he’ll have water.”

The waitress nods and heads back to the counter, and Jughead looks at Veronica curiously.

“What? You don’t need to be drinking something that’s going to make you more jittery than you already are.”

“Well thanks, mom.” She makes a point of ignoring that comment, pursing her lips while she studies the menu, and he chuckles to himself quietly before he does the same.

Once she’s decided, she clears her throat and Jughead looks at her warily.

“You’re still getting panic attacks?”

“It’s—They’re not _panic attacks_. I just…”

“Suffer from attacks of panic?”

“Funny.”

She goes quiet for a moment, fingering the napkin in front of her. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have made you come with me if I knew.”

“Veronica Lodge apologizing to me? I’ve officially seen it all,” he jokes, and receives a swift kick to his knee in exchange. “Ow, fuck! Are you five?”

She gives him a saccharine smile right as the waitress arrives with their drinks. “Are you guys ready to order?”

They are, and once she retreats to pass the chit off to the kitchen Veronica stares at him expectantly.

“What?”

“You should have told me!”

“That I’d rather jump off the balcony than be schmoozing at that god awful party? I’m getting better at pretending, okay? I thought it would be fine.”

His finger draws circles on the stained linoleum and he chokes out a sardonic laugh.

“Jesus, I still can’t fucking communicate my limits until the last minute. Betty and I really were made for each other.” His blood goes cold when his brain catches up to his mouth and he realizes what he’s said. His palm flattens against the table, rattling his cutlery, and his eyes shoot up to meet hers. “Shit, Ron, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Veronica just shakes her head and touches the tips of her fingers to his. Her hand is still warm from holding her coffee.

“I know, Jughead, it’s fine.”

Sometimes it still shocks him, that he and Veronica are so similar. That they weirdly connect and understand each other. That she hasn’t given up on him.

But it still shocks him that Betty hasn’t given up on him either, so.

She pulls back and abandons her napkin to start fiddling with the packets of sugar and sweetener off to the side of their table instead. “Betty and I talk about the important stuff, obviously. She’s still my best friend. But we don’t—we haven’t had a conversation about commitment. Maybe until we’re old and stylishly grey, or maybe I’m her ‘gay until graduation’ phase.”

Veronica scoffs like she can’t believe the phrase came out of her own mouth, and a small smile tugs at his lips.

She’s removed all the mixed up sugar packets from the container and has been organizing them into piles by brand, then carefully arranging them into some kind of order. Not alphabetical, Jughead presumes she’s going by the remaining number of each selection.

“I’ve never seen anyone look at somebody the way she looks at you,” she says, not unkindly. “There was never a doubt in my mind that you’re made for each other.”

Only once she’s accomplished her task does she look back up at him.

“Maybe it’s possible that I was too.” The lilt of her voice makes it sound like a question, but he has no clue whether he’s supposed to answer or not, let alone what the fuck he would say to that, so it’s fairly serendipitous when the waitress arrives with their dishes.

Veronica had ended up only ordering a small basket of fries while Jughead had gotten the most ostentatious burger on the menu. She shakes her head at him with a look of exasperated fondness before she tucks in.

They eat quietly, trading condiments in silence, until the waitress eventually returns with the renowned cheesecake.

“Holy shit,” Jughead blurts out when the dessert is laid out before him. The slices are massive, covered in sugary confection, and for a solid minute he thinks he might die of happiness.

Veronica just laughs and says, “Told you.”

 

 

 

Jughead groans when they’re back on the street, hunger momentarily satiated. “That almost made up for having to mingle for a whole hour.”

Veronica, a few steps behind him, grabs his hand to turn him around. “I am sorry, Jug. Tonight was supposed to be fun, not a total shit show.”

Jughead shrugs. “The second half wasn’t so bad.”

Veronica nods. She starts to say something, but quite literally bites her tongue. Instead, she stands on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She smells like the combination of blueberry cheesecake and bitter coffee.

She stares at his lips when she drops back to her heels, and he thinks she’s about to do something nonsensical like actually kiss him.

Instead, she swipes her thumb across his chin, wiping away remnants of her lipstick.

He rubs his own hand over his mouth. “What, not my color?”

She gives him a tired laugh and a rueful smile. “Let’s go home.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL, I certainly fucked up, didn't I? 
> 
> This chapter is longer than the first, so hopefully that will make up for some of the wait.

“Hey, Betts.”

When Jughead finally walks into their bedroom looking positively exhausted at the end of the night, she almost feels guilty.

Almost.

“How was the party? You look nice.”

He leans back against the door with a heavy sigh. “I hate parties. I hate suits.”

“Jug, you own, like, three shirts. Wearing a suit won’t kill you.”

He holds up his middle finger while he contemplates something, and she takes the rare moment to admire all the long lines of him dressed up in formalwear.

“I think I went on a date with Veronica?”

_Thank god, he’s finally getting there._

“What makes you say that?”

Jughead pauses before he scrubs his hands over his face. “Nothing, nevermind. I had too much champagne.”

Betty looks skyward, exasperated.

She sets down the book she was reading and hops off the bed, making her way across the room. She presses a kiss to the curve of his jaw when she reaches him. “You look very handsome.”

“Are you ever going to stop groping me?”

“Depends. How tired are you?” she asks almost shyly, and hooks her index fingers into the waist of his pants.

“Suddenly I’m feeling wide awake.”

Betty grins and backs her way into the attached bathroom. “I don’t want her to hear,” she says in response to his raised brow.

She feels like she’s starving for him, and all but shoves her tongue in his mouth before he can even swing the door shut. She can taste the faintest notes of tobacco and she steps back, concerned. “Were you smoking? Are you okay?”

Jughead just shakes his head and repeats, “I hate parties,” before his mouth is on hers again.

They kiss for as long as Betty can stand until she needs more. She warns a quiet, “Stop me if it’s too much,” before she hops up onto the vanity.

Jughead’s hands fall to her backside and squeeze happily.

She cups him through his pants to find him already half hard. She kisses him one last time before she pulls back just far enough to murmur quietly.

“I did something bad. I told her to take you instead of me.”

Her lips quirk upwards when she feels him hardening quickly under her hand. She places slow kisses on his neck, pausing every so often to tease the skin with her teeth.

“Well, if this— _fuck_ —is you making it up to me, I no longer have any complaints.”

She undoes his fly with care and only pulls his pants down far enough that they’re not in her way.

“To be honest, I had an ulterior motive. And I wanted to see you all dressed up, but then I got distracted.”

Betty licks a stripe up her palm before she wraps her hand around him.

“I thought about the two of you looking absolutely gorgeous together and I touched myself,” she whispers, and drags her teeth against his earlobe. She pumps her hand, teases the slit at the head of his cock with her thumb.

It was true, she had almost gone mad rubbing herself raw.

Jughead makes a choked noise and his fingers dig into her ass painfully, so she’ll take that as a good sign.

He pulls back, question on his lips, but Betty hooks her legs high against his sides and tightens them around him. She wraps his tie around the wrist of her free hand and uses it to pull him in for a kiss. He still responds eagerly, so it stands to reason that he can’t hate her too much.  

“I’ve thought about it a few times before,” she admits. “What it would be like with both of you focusing on me.”

His hips twitch forward to fuck into her hand.

“And then…” she trails off.

She wants to give him an out. If he’s completely against everything she’s saying, she can stop before she makes things worse.

“And what?” He asks softly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer.

Biting back a smile, she changes her motion to twist her hand on every upstroke. “Veronica and me focusing on you instead.”

He stutters out a breath, shaking his head. His hands travel back from around her hips and end up on her legs. “Betty, stop.”

She drops her hands and guilt floods her stomach immediately.

He pushes against her thighs, breaking their hold on him, and he backs away from her.

“Shit, Juggie, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t—"

Jughead hauls her off the counter and deposits her on the floor to pull her pajama shorts down. Betty laughs in relief and cups his jaw to kiss him. He licks into her mouth at the same time his hand ventures between her thighs, and her head falls back to suck in a sharp breath through her teeth.

He ducks his head to suck one of her nipples through the thin cotton of her tank top, scrapes his teeth over her sensitive skin.

He has her moaning in seconds, though she spins to face the other direction. His reflection in the mirror pouts at her, but then Betty pulls her shirt over her head and he doesn’t seem so dismayed anymore.

One of his hands seeks out a breast, traps her nipple in his fingers and tugs until she whimpers. The other is back between her legs, teasing along her slit, but he never pushes a finger inside.

“You want me to fuck you, Betts? You’re still so wet for me.”

 _He thinks he’s in charge now_ , she marvels. _Cocky bastard_.

Betty slips on mask of innocence and makes a show of arching her back, pressing her ass against his hand. “Please, Juggie, I need you.”

Jughead teases her with slow drags of the head of his cock against her pussy. When he finally pushes inside, the harsh stretch has Betty smiling wide as a blissed out sigh leaves her mouth.

She tries to meet his gaze in the mirror but his lids have drifted shut. She pushes back against him, wanting to feel him as deep as possible, and his eyes fly open.

“Fucking—” Jughead laughs and grabs her hips. “Give me a second so I don’t embarrass myself.”

“I don’t care.” She clenches her muscles around him and he groans his appreciation. “I love you. You have no idea how much I missed you tonight.”

He smiles at her reflection in the mirror before brushing a light kiss to her shoulder, bumping his nose against it softly.

“How much I wanted to feel you come inside me.”

Jughead sighs theatrically as he finally, _finally_ starts to move. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Betty takes both of his hands and brings them back to her breasts, Jughead kneading reflexively. “No, I don’t.”

For a few simple moments she relishes the feeling of him, thick and divine inside her, before she decides to get back to task and licks her lips.

“She just tastes so good, Jug.”

“Jesus _Christ_.” Jughead gasps. Betty bends over the countertop completely while she loses track of the steady stream of filth flowing from her mouth.

 _The noises she makes her_ tongue _you’d be so pretty together do you want to fuck her?_

His hips continue to snap into her, quickly losing rhythm. He leans over her back and claps his palm over her mouth. “Betts, you have to…”

The words die on his tongue when Betty turns her head, kisses the tips of his middle and index fingers, and pulls the digits into her mouth.

Her gaze meets his in the mirror, but then his eyes go unfocused as he takes in the image before him. The illusion of him having control in the moment – taking her from behind, fingers hooked into her mouth – all while she ruins him.

“Oh my god, Betty, fuck.” Jughead bends forward, his forehead landing on her shoulder. The movement makes his arm drop and his hand brings her jaw with it. His breathing shifts and he tenses, coming inside her with a drawn-out moan. His hands slap onto the vanity, his arms shaking with the strain of holding himself up.

A satisfied smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth.

“Did you forge my will?” Jughead mumbles against her spine.

“What?”

“Is that why you want to kill me?”

 

 

  

_“This shouldn’t be so difficult,” Veronica huffs._

_“If you’re going to break up with me, can you let me down gently?”_

_They haven’t even been dating that long, only a few months, but Betty figures this is what she gets for trying to be greedy._

_“What?” Veronica looks confused, and she shakes her head in the negative. “No, don’t be dumb.”_

_Betty breathes an audible sigh of relief. “So, what’s wrong?”_

_Veronica takes a deep breath, and forces it back out quickly. “I think I’m into Jughead.”_

_“Well, yeah.” Veronica talks about her romantic feelings only slightly more often than annually. And while Betty knows she doesn’t have a great track record of trying to figure out when someone likes her back, it’s always clear to see a crush from the outside._

_Veronica’s mouth opens slightly and she looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Oh, um. I thought that was going to get a more negative reaction.”_

_She waits patiently but Veronica doesn’t offer any more information. “Is that all?”_

_“_ ’Is that’ _—you’re okay with it?”_

_Despite the gravity of the situation, she feels the high of talking about menial high school rumors. Giddiness bubbles up inside her. “Do you want to do anything about it?”_

_“Do_ you _?”_

_Betty bites her lip but can’t keep her wide smile at bay, and she nods._

_“You just want to have a threesome, don’t you?”_

_“The thought may have crossed my mind…” Betty trails off when she feels her face getting hot._

_She shakes her head._ Focus, Betty _._

_“No, honestly, V. You’re my favorite people and I want you to be happy. If that’s together, so be it. If that’s all of us together? That seems pretty amazing to me.”_

_“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself here, Betty Marston. Just because I like him doesn’t mean it’s reciprocated.” Veronica glances to the side and gets a faraway look in her eye. “Oh my god, I’m thirteen years old.”_

_“Well,” Betty considers, “I can find out.”_

_She’s needed a new project anyway._

_“Are you sure, B?” Veronica’s hesitant, it’s clear to see. “You want to be the wingman for someone else to date your beau?”_

_“Yes, oh my god, yes.” Betty places one hand on Veronica’s neck and one in her hair to pull her in for a kiss, and Veronica’s lips part under hers easily._

_Betty climbs into her lap, and Veronica mumbles, “We can talk more about this later.” Betty nods, but the other girl’s hands are already creeping up underneath Betty’s sweater._

_“Now, about this threesome.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jughead had had a fitful sleep, and he wasn’t entirely convinced his current situation wasn’t a new, peculiar dream.

Betty and Veronica sit close together on the couch, Betty already dressed for the day, Veronica still in her posh silk pajamas.

Having a discussion about their relationships.

About his relationship with Betty, Veronica’s relationship with Betty.

And Veronica’s relationship with him.

The rising tension in his chest is spreading throughout his entire being, because this is the definitive moment from which there will be no return.

“Just so we’re clear, you manipulated me, your loving boyfriend, into dating your girlfriend.”

“A little bit, yes.”

Betty had walked him through it the night before, how they had been dropping hints for however long, when he thought he was just being a third wheel. In retrospect, the most obvious was how the breakfast disaster was supposed to be the start of something, but he’d gotten self-conscious and fucked it up before it could begin. A similar situation with the party, though everyone had made a mistake with that one.

Jughead frowns at them.

“Meaning the time I spent paranoid that Veronica was eventually going to break us up cut ten years off my lifespan for nothing.”

Betty’s brows pinch together in slight confusion. “That’s a larger discussion we’re going to need to have, but sure.”

“Look, you guys have been sitting on this forever. Can I have another minute to think?”

“Of course,” she replies immediately.

Veronica shifts uncomfortably, her body language a clear sign she wants as much as he does for all of this to be over as soon as possible.

He wants to be mad at them, as hypocritical as he knows that is. Because they would, evidently, put this into motion in secret instead of just fucking talking to him.

He _wants_ to be.

But it’s _Betty_ and it’s _Veronica_ and they’re two of his best friends – and the only ones in the state, anyway. He already would have done anything for them, and now he thinks he’s slowly starting to figure out why.

He’s not averse to the idea, as stupefying as it had been. A one-off threeway wouldn’t have been the most unexpected fantasy to come out of Betty’s head, but Veronica’s feelings being involved? It was an idea so ludicrous that it had never once crossed his mind.

When Betty finally fessed up, Jughead only became more perplexed. She had to spell out in no uncertain terms that Veronica was interested in him, and there would be no more avoiding the matter until they had all come to some resolution, whatever that may be.

He’d still had trouble interpreting the message. _“I’m sorry, what?”_

It definitely hadn’t been a cinematic moment of sudden revelation. More like a cold fog rolling in and obstructing his view, but ushering in a bright spring day in its wake.

(The only shock had come after. When, with a start, it occurred to him that churning in his gut wasn’t necessarily sensing impending doom, but something akin to being pleasantly surprised.)

The fact that this is a conversation they ended up having – no matter how late – feels more like a fever dream than a nightmare.

His current struggle is with if the battle of entertaining the potential would be worth the devastation if it all came crashing down.

Betty clears her throat when he’s silent for too long.

“Remember the good old days when we solved murders? Simpler times.” Jughead muses.

A slow smile starts across his face, unbidden. Betty smiles too, although hers is fairly nervous. “What? What are you thinking?”

He points to Veronica, full shit-eating grin now in place. “You _like_ me.”

“Not anymore.” She rolls her eyes as she says it, and he wonders if this is the record for her earliest eyeroll in the morning. Probably not.

It’s the first thing she’s said during this whole ordeal. She’d let Betty speak on her behalf – he guesses so she didn’t incriminate herself any further.

The blonde in question leans forward slightly, ready to jump back into mediation. “So—"

“You’re like a secret admirer.” He can’t ignore the rare chance to make her squirm. “All I’m saying is that I get an awful lot of grief for not talking about my feelings when you two have been scheming to seduce me for who knows how long.”

“I’m secretive, you’re a flight risk.” Veronica arches a perfect brow. “And if I only wanted to seduce you, you would have been seduced.”

“Because I wouldn’t have been able to resist your womanly wiles.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

Jughead narrows his eyes while Veronica smiles, pleased with herself. “I loathe everything about you.”

Betty looks back and forth between the two of them with rapt attention and wide eyes, while Veronica simply watches him, calculating. “Are we doing this?”

Jughead shrugs. “If I don’t deflect, I’ll be finished growing as a person and I’ll never experience joy ever again.”

Veronica folds her hands in front of her face as though in prayer and moans. “You’re the _worst_.”

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration manifests and she looks _much_ too confident for his liking.

She turns to Betty slowly, though when she lunges to kiss her she’s anything but. Betty mumbles “what’s happening?” into her mouth, but returns the kiss with equal ferocity.

He’s seen them kiss before but those had been sweet, soft little pecks, and now the occasional glimpse of tongue has his palms sweating. He’s granted a rare view that’s at least 50% performative and he can’t be bothered to care.

Veronica bites Betty’s bottom lip and pulls, bringing out a quiet moan along with it. Her next move is to mouth at the other girl’s collar, and Betty sucks in a large breath.

They’re both watching him, waiting for his reaction, but all he can do is scramble to find any possible blood cells left in his brain.

“Betty dearest,” Veronica mumbles into Betty’s neck, though she doesn’t take her eyes off him. “What say you and I take our wiles to my room?” She pops open the button of Betty’s jeans and tugs down the zipper. “Jughead needs to process, after all.”

He catches a hint of green panties hiding beneath the denim.

“Let the record show that I’m not a piece of meat.”

“Of course not,” Veronica says, though her hands are drifting to far more inappropriate locations.

“But, I am not against being treated as such under these _dire_ circumstances.” One of Veronica’s hands had been skirting around her ribcage and Betty places it directly on her breast, forcing her to squeeze.

She indulges for a moment before she stands and yanks Betty to her feet, leading her to the bedroom.

“That’s not fair,” Jughead protests weakly, and they ignore him.

They continue on their merry way, closing him out of the room.

“Mind’s made up,” he quickly yells out.

“Don’t rush, you should think long and _hard_ about it.” Veronica peeks her head out just long enough to get the last word. She closes the door again, this time with an air of finality, emphasized with the sound of the lock.

 

 

 

Later, after Betty has admonished Veronica – “Stop using sex so you don’t have to talk about your feelings!” – they try again. For her own benefit, Betty insisted they had to be in public so that she doesn’t get distracted.

He’s ended up on a rickety bench at the Tramway Plaza – public enough that Betty’s confident she won’t be swayed, but loud and private enough that they can plough through this uncomfortable bout of growing pain without any bystanders wondering who died. Betty sits next to him, nervously wringing her hands, Veronica leans against a short wrought-iron fence a few paces away, and he avoids making eye contact with either of them.

Jughead sighs, wishing he brought his hat with him. He usually only wears it during the colder months now, but a security blanket is a security blanket and it would probably stave off at least an infinitesimal fraction of his own nervous energy.

He stares at the ground and Betty’s hand covers the top of his. “Jug?” He turns his hand to hold his palm against hers and laces their fingers together.

“I want to,” he says to a series of chips in the concrete. “Try. I want to try.”

“You don’t have to say that just because we brought it up.” He glances at Veronica, surprised. “We quite literally propositioned you, you’re allowed to say no.”

Betty concurs by giving his hand a squeeze.

“No, I—knock it off. I’m also allowed to say yes. I _want_ to try.”

He’s forgetting why exactly that is because she’s so frustratingly annoying. Veronica clearly doesn’t believe him, if the doubtful look she shoots him is anything to go by.

He throws his hands to the air in irritation. What’s the point of him being here if she’s not going to actually take in anything he has to say?

He gets to his feet and fully intends to stomp back to the apartment. Instead, he makes the split second decision to fight fire with fire, and in a few short strides he’s standing in front of Veronica.

Jughead may not be the spitting image of iconic femmes fatale on the cover of a tantalizing pulp like they are, but he can at least try to play their game.

He cradles her face in his hands, his fingers curving around the back of her neck to tilt her head. He still has to bend his knees quite a bit because she’s wearing flat shoes for once and she’s too god damn short.

Veronica stares up at him with wild eyes, mouth agape.

He dips his head to give her a tease of a kiss, his lips barely brushing against hers before he retreats. She immediately tries to follow, but his grasp keeps her held back.

She screws up her face in frustration and pinches him on his side, and he laughs quietly.

Even though he moves slowly when he ducks his head again, his lips moving against hers for proper kiss this time, she still squeaks in surprise.  

When he pulls back to get a read on Betty, her expression is one of unfiltered joy. She’s wearing a huge smile and dramatically pretends to wipe away a fake tear, but, well. It _is_ Betty. It wouldn’t exactly turn him on his head if she started openly sobbing in the park.

Veronica places a firm hand on the back of his head to pull him back towards her mouth. She stands on the tips of her toes to meet him in the middle, her body rubbing up against him to get closer, and he’s _so_ fucked.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Betty had shut herself away for a few hours so that she would have zero distractions while working on her latest piece. She curses her naivety when Veronica walks into the room unannounced, sliding between Betty and her desk to straddle her legs easily.

“Veronica,” Betty giggles on a sigh. “You can hump me later. I really need to finish this copy edit.” Truthfully, she gave herself a false deadline to account for any possible mishaps, but she would rather finish her work as soon as possible.

Veronica pouts. “Dating two people is way less efficient than I thought it would be. You’re copy editing instead of socializing, Jughead’s line editing instead of socializing. And I wasn’t even trying to hook up with him this time!”

Ah, yes. Veronica and Jughead’s neverending game of chicken to see who would break and admit defeat by sexual tension first.

They had kissed a few times, but everything was kept strictly PG-13 and Betty thought she might eventually implode. Jughead had initiated exactly one of those kisses and Veronica made a noise Betty would describe as surprised-but-not-displeased, and he hasn’t done it since.

Betty, on more than one occasion, witnesses his hands awkwardly hovering around Veronica because he wants to touch her but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

(They still haven’t discussed labels or anything of the sort, and Schrödinger’s relationship is making him antsy.

“Am I her boyfriend now? I don’t know! Does she want me to be? I don’t know!”

Betty couldn’t help but laugh a little bit when they realized that, at 23, he was acting like such a dumb _boy_ for once.

Then her heart panged when she realized he wouldn’t have had anyone to have this conversation the first time around when it was about her.)

She finds herself revisiting memories from all those years ago, when he took her by surprise and kissed her in her bedroom. How, for the longest time after that, she needed to be the instigator of romantic gestures and PDA until they got into the swing of things.

“Betty! Come on!”

“Sorry, what?”

“Why on earth did I shack up with two writers?”

“Our eloquence is an attractive add-on to your witticisms?”

“But you’re not paying attention to me,” Veronica whines.

“Give me a couple hours.” Betty compromises. “Then I’ll pay all of the attention to you.”

Veronica sighs heavily. “Fine. Can we go to the park? I need inspiration for my winter line.” She flounces away before Betty can argue, not that she would have.

She shuts her laptop and stands to stretch her aching muscles. She made good progress today, she justifies. She can take a break and pick back up tomorrow.

Betty brushes her hair into a ponytail and starts to conjure up a plan.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Actual, formal dating is apparently something they do now.

Except their ‘dates’ are similar to what they already do.

They all go to the movies. They go get food, sometimes drinks. They visit countless places in the boroughs. They check out the occasional tourist trap. Today they went to get pho.

(The only real difference is that if there is any amount of alcohol, Veronica ends up shoving her tongue down his throat.

He can’t really complain about that, though.)

When he notes these things, the girls always send him pointed looks as if to say, _Yeah. Duh._ But really, they did those things even before Betty and Veronica got together, which he thinks adds to his argument.

Betty stares at him with a tight-lipped smile and her brows raised, nodding. _Yes. Yes, we did._

What, had they all been in a weird quasi-relationship since they moved here and none of them knew it?

Oh.

Jughead keeps having small epiphanies on the daily and it’s really just unnecessary fodder for his existential crises at this point.

Now Betty insists he and Veronica have _alone time_ while he insists that’s _stupid_.

“Jug, you and I have been together for years but you haven’t had that kind time to bond with each other!” She gesticulates wildly when she speaks, and he turns around to look at Veronica a few steps behind them, mid-eyeroll.

“Except that we’ve known each other since we were fifteen and we live together,” he points out. “We do hang out without you, you know. If anything, we’ve already bonded way too much.”

Veronica pipes up behind them. “It’s fine, B, it’s been a long time coming.”

The confirmation makes his head swim a little bit and he kind of feels like he’s dying but it’s fine.

Jughead hooks his left arm around Betty’s shoulders for some support, and Veronica threads her fingers through those of his right while she grumbles. “Quit leaving me behind, Hodor.”

“Maybe if you didn’t wear ridiculous shoes wherever you go—”

“My style choices have nothing to do with this,” she protests. “It’s you two giraffes competing in the long jump with every step.”

“Guys, seriously.” Betty frowns. “We have to figure this out.”

“Why?” Jughead asks more than a little impatiently. “Why do we _have_ to? Is there a checklist we have to work through?”

Betty – beautiful, ardent Betty – magnanimously ignores his bitching. She does stop walking abruptly, yanking the chain of he and Veronica back with her. “Is he your boyfriend?”

It’s a terrifying question and he dreads the answer. He wants to catch all the words and force them back into Betty’s pretty mouth before Veronica can reply.

“Am I your boyfriend?” Jughead echoes instead.

Veronica breathes a laugh through her nose. “You were just ruing the day you had to work on the agonizing checklist.”

“We’re millennials participating in a society obsessed with boxes and labels. Terminology is important for—”

“You will be if you take me on a fucking date like Betty told you to and end this suffering.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Betty had always been a deep sleeper, but there was no way to keep that habit around once Jughead had started sharing her bed. He always takes up more than his fair share of space, his limbs too lanky to be contained, and he doesn’t shift in his sleep so much as he flails around.

The movement on the mattress doesn’t bother her. The only problem is when Betty is the casualty of his thrashing, and tonight she gets a heavy punch to the back.

She turns and stares at his unconscious form in disbelief as if he’d done it on purpose. She considers if she would be able to justify shooting him but concludes that she would miss him too much, so she settles for swiftly kicking him in the shin.

Jughead snores loudly but doesn’t wake.

Betty glares, disappointed that his retribution had no effect, then turns back over to her other side with a huff.

She groans, long and loud, when she sees light peeking under the crack in the door, harsh and bright in the dark room.

Someone left the lights on.

With another deep huff, she drags herself out of the warm danger zone that is her bed, and then her room entirely.

She winces when she steps into the bright hallway, squinting against the intense recessed lighting. She walks through the hall quickly, intent on smacking the wall in the general vicinity of the light switch and promptly falling back asleep, but she stops in her tracks when she realizes she isn’t alone.

Veronica’s sitting at the dining room table, scratching at what Betty is sure is a nonexistent chip in the glass.

“You’re up,” Betty uselessly points out.

“Yeah. I—I had trouble sleeping.”

Veronica-speak for she had one of her nightmares and doesn’t want to go back to bed and risk another one.

Betty’s in no place to judge, but she knows Veronica has been slacking for a long time now when it comes to working through trauma. The nightmares hadn’t gotten worse, but they haven’t gotten better either, and sometimes Betty wants to shake her and make her see sense.

(She clearly does judge. She hates herself for it.

To Veronica, working with a therapist during her era of high society and party drugs was essential. Since then, she swore by it – for everyone else but herself.

Being surrounded by violence and death at a pivotal, defining age was just another day at the office, move it along, nothing to see here.)

Betty chastises herself. This isn’t an ‘ _I told you so’_ moment; she needs to check in with Veronica.

Her eyes are glassy, and she avoids Betty’s gaze. Veronica wears her heart on her sleeve, but Betty rarely sees her actually cry. Those instances are few and far between, and she wonders if she’s better than even Jughead at hiding the cracks in her façade.

Betty pulls out the chair next to Veronica’s but she turns her head away. Betty ducks her own to catch her eye and reaches for her hands. “Hey.”

Veronica shakes her head, snivelling to keep her tears at bay. Her chin trembles as she finally looks up. Fat teardrops roll down her cheeks when she blinks, and Betty’s heart breaks.

“Oh, honey,” she sighs.

Veronica falls into her, stifling the volume of her cries into her chest, while Betty sweeps what she hopes is a comforting hand across her back. She holds her tightly through the sobs, murmuring into dark hair for some kind of sense of comfort.

When she can get her heaving breaths contained to the occasional hiccup, Veronica rests her forehead in the curve of Betty’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The firm resolve in Betty’s voice surprises even herself. Veronica nods against her skin.

They both look up at the quiet sound of Jughead’s bare feet dragging along the floor. He rubs his bleary eyes when he gets to the end of the hallway. “What’s wrong? Why does my leg hurt?”

“Hm, strange.” Betty glosses over that quickly.

Jughead deciphers the scene before him. It takes him a few seconds longer than it usually would, his mind still sluggish, and he shuffles closer. “Nightmare?”

“Don’t worry about me, you guys. I know you had it way worse.”

Jughead’s brow furrows. “That’s stupid.”

“Juggie,” Betty scolds. “I know what you’re trying to say, but let’s not right now.”

“Well, Betty,” he snips right back. “It’s not like this is the first time. Obviously we’re worried.” Jughead’s face softens and looks at her sheepishly. “Sorry. I—Sorry.” He curls his hand around the dip between her neck and shoulder.

She covers his hand with her own. “We’re all tired. We should go back to bed.”

Jughead concedes. “You’re right.” He holds out his free hand to Veronica. “Come on, Ronnie,” he continues quietly.

Veronica nods again and lets him pull her to her feet. They amble back to the bedroom, and Betty is able to flip the light switch with more energy than is probably necessary.

Veronica crawls to her spot in the middle of their bed, buries into Jughead’s side and Betty cuddles into her back. Jughead wraps his arm around the two of them, hand resting on Betty’s shoulder.

 

 

 

In the morning, Betty and Veronica debate whether they should go out for breakfast or stay in. They’ll have to wait until Jughead wakes up anyway, or until he shifts around a little at the very least. Veronica’s legs have tangled with Jughead’s somehow, even though he’s on his back, and she can’t be bothered to try and escape.

So they all stay wrapped up in one another, scrolling through Betty’s phone in the meantime. The plan had been to look for appetizing food photos on Instagram, but one thing led to another and they’ve ended up looking at the profiles of internet famous animals.

They ponder whether the apartment would be better suited for a cat, dog, or rare exotic lizard, and Betty asserts that their location in the city would be perfect for all. They plan their hypothetical pet adventures in hushed murmurs and quiet laughter so as not to wake their bedmate. (Even though, Betty gripes, he deserves it.)

Betty is just happy Veronica is in better spirits. She traces Veronica’s smile with her thumb, stroking over her jaw before she kisses her, morning breath be damned.

“This is still so fucking weird.”

Betty jumps when Jughead’s gruff morning voice comes out of nowhere. She peaks over Veronica’s head and his eyes are still closed, his breathing still heavy while he tries to fight consciousness – no other signs that he woke up.

She gathers he doesn’t mean the cuddling, that had always been there. But the kissing, maybe. And possibly the lack of pants. They usually cover up when Veronica crawls into their bed, but they hadn’t bothered this time.

Either way, it didn’t sound like a complaint.

“You’re fucking weird,” Veronica shoots back without any real fire.

Jughead rolls to his side, further trapping Veronica’s legs with his, and his arm falls heavily across her waist. Betty’s sure he intends to keep sleeping as much as he can, but he runs his thumb over the underside of Veronica’s breast like he’s on autopilot.

“I think it’s nice,” Betty says with a soft smile.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Veronica’s smart.

She’s learned more through her lived experience than the world, himself included, typically gives her credit for. Jughead admires that. She lets people underestimate her but never walk over her, and she’s so headstrong that she never backs down.

But he will not – he _refuses_ to – budge here. It’s unforgivable, because she’s just _wrong_.

He can’t believe she could betray him like this – debating the merits of a ‘90s teen movie. Their film tastes often clash, sure, but this was _quintessential_ for the cultural context. It helped mold him into a cinephile before he was even born!

Jughead professed that it was an instant classic for a reason, Veronica insisted that the sequels were a cut above. They had determined Betty should be the final judge, but she had never seen it.

A watch party had ensued.

“I still hate this movie, but I’ll accept the eye candy.”

Jughead frowns at Veronica. “That guy looks like my dad.”

“And your dad is a _Daddy_ ,” she emphasizes. “It’s a travesty you lost that gene, but, c’est la vie.”

“That’s fucked up,” he says seriously.

“Jughead can be whatever he puts his mind to.” Betty speaks in an absent monotone. Her popcorn-filled hand is paused halfway to her mouth while she stares at the screen.

“I’m just being objective.” Veronica shrugs.

“By objectifying my dad.”

“Aw, Juggie, are you jealous?”

“If by jealous you mean suddenly triggered and realizing that my dad can never come here.”

“I _have_ met him before, you know.”

“That’s not helping.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” She places a gentle hand on his jaw and kisses him softly.

Jughead pulls back and narrows his eyes. “That was the worst possible lead in to tempt me.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Veronica says, voice clipped. Her hand on his face is firmer when she takes his mouth again.

They spend the remaining hour innocently making out, with no roaming hands for once, and Betty appreciates that she can watch the movie in peace.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Betty was starting to get concerned.

They have sex with _her_ but not with _each other_ , and she thought that was included with the package deal when they decided to go full polyamorous triad.

There wasn’t really a casual way for her to bring it up that she was comfortable with, so she checked in with them separately. They both assured her that while they were ready and willing, they were waiting for the other to break first.

They’re all horny jackrabbits, but no one will take up the role of instigator. Instead, the tension boils under the surface, waiting to erupt.

 

 

 

There’s a period where their schedules are misaligned, and all they can manage to do is trade kisses as they come and go.

At one point Veronica scrunches up her face. “We’re so domestic it’s gross.”

“I know!” Betty beams.

 

 

 

The end of the semester.

Betty can _breathe_.

She aced two exams. She finished her assignments for the station. She picked up the slack when one of her coworkers had to call in sick, and she’s getting home hours late. All she wants to do is crash on the couch and sleep for a year.

When she steps over the threshold and into the foyer that dream flies out the window.

There, in her most precious napping spot, Veronica’s straddling Jughead and pushing him back against the cushions. One of her hands is tangled in his hair, pulling sharply, and the other has the collar of his t-shirt stretched near his shoulder so that she can properly kiss at his neck.

Jughead traces the curve of one breast, grip tight on the back of her thigh all the while. His fingertips dip underneath the thick band of her stocking.

Circling her hips, Veronica’s a vision of sin riding him through the layers of their clothes.

“Hey Betts,” Jughead grits out, his eyes pleading with her to save him.

Veronica’s head swivels in surprise, taking in Betty standing before them, arms akimbo.

“Honey, you’re home!” Veronica cheers.

She doesn’t move from his lap but she plucks at Jughead’s shirt absentmindedly, and the movement has her arms coming closer together and framing her breasts. Jughead’s eyes slowly drift back in the direction of Veronica’s chest.

Veronica’s always loved a good push-up bra, and evidently so does he.

They still haven’t had sex due to their idiotic not-quite-a-bet, and she will no longer stand for this.

She hangs her coat on the rack by the door and carefully steps out of her shoes. She reaches for the side closure of her skirt, lowers the zipper, and the fabric lands in a heap at her feet.

“I’m deciding for you both.” She tries for an authoritative voice but it sounds slightly distressed to her own ears. “Now or never.” She turns away while unbuttoning her shirt and strutting to her room.

Obviously the ultimatum carries no weight, but the pair scramble to follow.

Veronica shrieks, high and piercing. There’s a light crash before Betty hears Veronica’s muttered “ow” and Jughead’s boisterous laughter.

“It’s fine, I’m fine!” Veronica calls before she could even ask, and appears in the doorway with Jughead a moment later.

Betty first notes that they’re now missing some key pieces of clothing, then that Veronica hobbles in with a slight limp.

“I slipped.” Veronica dismisses it with a wave.

“She was taking off one of her sock things and she slid across the floor,” Jughead informs her. “It was amazing. I’ll never forget it for the rest of my life.”

“Make fun of me while you’re trying to get your dick wet. That sounds like a great idea.”

They all work together to remove the remaining scraps of their clothes. Betty allows the other two a moment to ogle each other before she shoves at Jughead’s shoulders, badgering him until he lays back on the bed.

Veronica takes up her previous position straddling Jughead and plants her hands on his chest. She settles her weight on him, and his thumbs stroke the jut of her hips.

“I believe we were right about… here.”

She grinds against him, gliding back and forth along his cock. Betty sighs at the sight before her, content to watch for now.

“You’re such a brat,” Jughead breathes.

“Really?” Veronica cocks a brow. She pulls away from him and rises up on her knees, hovering far enough away that he can’t get any friction. Jughead bucks his hips up towards her, but each time she moves just out of the way.

Laughing, Veronica bends forward to kiss him and Betty admires the push and pull of their lips.

Taking pity on Jughead, Veronica traces the ridges of his abdomen. Her fingertips trail through the dark hair she finds there before wrapping around his cock and stroking nice and slow.

Betty feels like her whole body is buzzing. She snaps back to herself when she’s called on.

“Let’s see, now. What should we do, B?”

“Ooh, sorry, V.” She feigns a wince. “Already made that deal with the devil.”

As though he had been waiting for his cue, Jughead grapples with Veronica to heave her backward, and she gasps when the force of landing on her back knocks the wind out of her.

“Déjà vu,” she says pointedly, once she’s caught her breath.

“Tradition,” Betty counters, finally kneeling on the mattress.

Jughead palms a breast as his mouth latches on to the other, and Veronica hums, reaching out to Betty. Betty crawls closer to the foot of the bed and drapes herself over Veronica, kissing her softly.

“Hi,” Betty smiles down at her.

“H-ey.” There’s a hitch in her breathing as Veronica stumbles over the short word.

Betty pulls away to watch Jughead, hair flopping into his face as he noses his way down to her legs.

“We are going to do so many filthy things to you,” she croons into Veronica’s ear.

“Promises, promis—Oh my _god_.” Veronica cries out when Jug gets his mouth on her.

Betty hides her smile in Veronica’s neck, kissing and biting until a small bruise forms there. She works her way to Veronica’s chest slowly, savoring every microexpression Jughead draws from her body.

Her chest heaves with deep breaths. Her brows pull together and she bites her top lip. Every once in a while her body jerks in response to Jughead’s mouth working unseen wonders.

Jughead wraps his arms around Veronicas thighs to pull her impossibly closer, closing his eyes.

Betty scrapes her teeth against the swell of Veronica’s breast before circling the nipple with her tongue, and Veronica fists their hair in each hand.

“This was a terrible idea,” she wheezes. “I’m going to die.”

Betty just giggles and fondles her other breast.

She takes a peek at Jug to see he’s added his hand to the mix, and Betty joins Veronica raking her fingers through his thick hair.

“Just like that.” Veronica sighs, her hips rocking up – a sure sign that she’s close. “Eat my pussy just like that.”

 _Fuck_. Betty feels lightheaded. If she intends to hold onto a semblance of her sanity at least until the night is over, she really needs Veronica to keep quiet.

With a hand on her jaw, Betty crushes their lips together in a bruising kiss. She keeps focusing on Veronica’s breasts, squeezing hard, thumbs rolling against her nipples. She tweaks them and Veronica sobs into her mouth.

Jughead lets out a deep moan when Veronica arches her back off the bed, and she’s coming, hard. Betty narrowly avoids her tongue getting bitten when Veronica shakes.

As she recovers, she struggles to draw in ragged breaths. After she brushes a damp strand of hair away from her face, Veronica brings a hand to her temple. Jughead kisses the bend in her knee and swipes his forearm over his mouth while he rises to sit back on his heels.

“Well,” she addresses Jughead. “She wasn’t exaggerating.”

Jughead cocks his head toward Betty. “You’ve been sharing my trade secrets?”

“Sharing is caring, Juggie.”

Jughead spreads Veronica’s legs further apart, aligns their hips and grinds against her core, still so sensitive. He purposely avoids sliding into her.

“Jughead.” Veronica pleads at the tail end of a pitiful whimper.

“Not so nice, is it?”

Betty decides enough is enough. She reaches for his dick, guides him into Veronica. Jughead laughs, but thanks her with a quick kiss until his head falls back with a groan. “Christ, you’re so tight.”

He winds his arms under Veronica, drags them down slowly until his hands reach the small of her back. He tilts her hips, searching for a better angle, until her mouth drops open and her nails scratch down his arm.

Jughead grins at Betty, who bites her lip. She still gets butterflies looking at his stupid face.

They find their rhythm easily. Jughead grabs at her ass, her thighs for leverage. Veronica plants her feet on the mattress and rises up to meet him.

Betty catches her lips for a languid kiss, which quickly devolves into their lips ghosting against each other when Veronica can do little more than pant out heavy breaths.

Jughead ducks his head under Veronica’s chin and mouths at all the skin he can reach. Veronica runs her fingers through Betty’s hair and scratches along her scalp, and Betty moans her appreciation.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Veronica murmurs, and grabs a fistful of Jug’s hair to pull his mouth to hers. He indulges her for a moment before retreating back to kneel.

Betty grips Veronica’s thigh and holds her leg out to watch him repeatedly sink into her. She’s all too aware of the throbbing between her own legs, how she desperately clenches around nothing.

“Perv later. Make me come first,” Veronica urges.

Ever the people pleaser, she snakes her hand between their bodies to find Veronica’s clit and rub in quick circles. Veronica tenses and gasps in desperation. She cants her hips to meet both of their ministrations, babbling nonsense. When she comes, thighs flexing over Jughead’s hips, Betty’s quick to swoop in and swallow her whimpers.

Jughead grunts, and he looks almost pained. “Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” he pants.

Veronica whines when Jughead pulls out of her, rapidly stroking his cock until ropes of his come land across her tummy and, incidentally, Betty’s hand.

She brings her fingers to her mouth without much conscious thought, more habit than anything else, and she instantly grows even wetter at the combined taste of both of them.

Jughead pants a quiet, “Holy shit,” that Betty thinks sounds an awful lot like, “I love you.”

He grabs the base of her neck to bring her in for a harsh kiss, a low sound escaping his throat when he sweeps his tongue into her mouth.

“Stop,” Veronica protests, and when Betty looks down at her, she has her arm thrown over her eyes to shield her from the sight. “Too much.”

Betty frowns and turns away to make like she’ll climb off the bed. “All right, I guess I’ll put my clothes back on.”

Jughead is the one who wraps his arm around her hips and drags her back against his chest. He squeezes her ass before moving lower, cursing when he finds her soaked and aching for him.

He inches two fingers into her and her head drops back to rest against his shoulder. She whispers, “More,” and he presses in a third.

He kisses along her neck and jaw, and Betty hums her gratitude.

Before she realizes it, Veronica is up on her knees in front of Betty, ghosting her hand up her thigh. She’s returning the favor and sliding her hand over her clit, and Betty already knows it won’t take much more.

Veronica sucks on her bottom lip and painfully tugs at it with her teeth, but then avoids her mouth altogether and focuses on her chest.

Betty’s hips rock between the two of them as she fucks their fingers. She’s so wet that she can hear the obscene sounds in the otherwise quiet room, and she can’t help but blush.

It’s sensory overload. A hot swipe of Veronica’s tongue over her nipple, Jughead’s free hand tight on her hip. She can feel him against her ass, already getting hard again, and she mewls.

“Come on, Betts,” Jughead whispers. “Come for us.”

Veronica moans and pulls Jughead in for a kiss over Betty’s shoulder.

With a jolt, Betty cries out. Her body bows forward, spots of white dotting her vision as her orgasm washes over her.

Jughead says something but he sounds miles too far away for Betty to discern it. “Hm?” Veronica giggles and kisses her, brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Betty anticipates Jughead and Veronica whispering sweet nothings, soft pecks, drifting hands, as the three of them slowly fall to the side to sprawl in a mass of limbs.

Instead, like they’re in sync, their hands don’t slow but speed up.

“Oh my god. Shit, oh my god.” She chokes out, and Veronica scoots even closer to take her mouth again. She lines up her arm with her hips, using the momentum to move her hand with more force.

The two of them are pressed against every inch of her to manipulate her body and they don’t stop until she’s shaking.

Her second orgasm tears through her so quickly she’s sure her heart stopped and lungs collapsed. She’s flying but she clings to them, begging that they’ll keep her anchored to the ground.

Betty doesn’t remember saying anything but there’s a gentle shushing noise as someone caresses her face, thumb lingering on her bottom lip.

Someone (Both? She can’t keep her eyes open.) slowly rubs between her legs, soothing the sore flesh. They lay her down against the pillows but stay kneeling above her and she blinks up at them, confused.

“Bed.” Her eyes are already drifting shut but she’s cold and wants their bodies next to her.

“In a second. You okay there?” Veronica has a teasing lilt to her voice but also a touch of concern.

Betty nods. “Amazing.”

“Do you wanna get up so I can change the sheets?” Betty only opens her eyes long enough to scowl at Jughead, who laughs quietly. “Just checking.”

Eyes closed once more, Betty smiles up at the ceiling. “I have the best ideas.”

 

 

 

When Betty peels herself out of bed to pee, she does so slowly, not quite willing to wake herself up yet.

Jughead dozes next to her, Veronica pressed close against his back, her arms wrapped around his torso spooning him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“There you are! I didn’t know if you guys were home.”

Betty sounds chipper when Veronica heads into the kitchen, and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly when Jughead follows, shrugging into his shirt. She’d already set the table and finishes dishing out whatever food she brought home. Not like it matters.

She’s the best. Jughead squeezes her hip when he passes.

“Sorry, B.” Veronica kisses her cheek before sitting down. “Jughead can’t keep his hands to himself. Or his mouth, for that matter.”

Jughead looks at her, eyes accusatory. “Me?!”

He seems to remember _someone_ on her knees as soon as they stepped through the door.

“Betty, the other day, he went down on me until I _cried_.”

What a snitch.

“I didn’t hear you complaining.” That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the familiar twinge of insecurity. He scratches the back of his neck. “I can stop?”

Veronica aims her fork at him. “You have _one_ thing going for you, Jughead, don’t ruin it.”

He shakes his head, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Beatrice—”

“Well, close.”

“I would ask him this question but I would never get an honest answer. So, how long did it take him to hone that craft? Out of curiousity.”

Betty shrugs. “He was always good at it. What did you expect? He likes to eat,” she boasts with a dirty smile.

“That’s not possible. I swear, Archie didn’t even know what a clit was before I met him. I don’t know how he was nailing half of Riverdale High.” A strange, probably misogynistic pride puffs up in his chest. “Although, I sent him off into the world a well-educated man.”

Veronica scrutinizes him, weighingthe options.

“Did you fool around with someone else first, until you learned the ropes? Cheryl, maybe. That definitely would have stayed hidden in the vault.”

Jughead side-eyes her, while Betty laughs so hard into the water she was drinking that she chokes.

“Nope. Seriously, there’s no way I’m buying that you were always good.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. Betty was my first everything. She’s the only girl I ever _wanted_ to do anything with until—” Thankfully, his throat decides for him that he needs to stop speaking.

Veronica smiles down at her plate but makes no further comment.

It still feels more intimate and naked than he’s comfortable with so he busies himself with shovelling forkfuls into his mouth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Betty jolts awake when she hears a thud and a pained yelp.

Jughead isn’t in bed and her heart hammers in her chest. Her hand shoots out to grab her phone and check the time.

5:21 AM.

She tosses the covers back and tip toes to the open bedroom door. She doesn’t see anything through the crack, so she creeps out of the room to investigate further.

There’s nothing suspicious in the hallway, and when she walks through to the open, main area of the apartment Betty barely stops herself from rolling her eyes in exasperation. They all need to start wearing bells.

Veronica’s sitting on the countertop with Jughead crowding into her space. One of his hands pushes back on her shoulder, pinning her to the cabinets. His other hand is buried deep underneath the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing for a nightgown, and Veronica’s eyes are shut tight while she clutches the wrist between her legs.

Betty doesn’t know how they could’ve possibly ended up in this situation at five in the morning, but she can’t exactly blame them, judging by the warmth that pools low in her belly.

Jughead’s whispering into Veronica’s ear – naughty comments, she’s sure – so at least they’re _trying_ to be considerate of the early hour.

“Fuck me,” Veronica hisses.

Jughead snickers and kisses her cheekbone in the same way that warms Betty’s heart during innocent conditions but infuriates her when they’re having sex, and by the way Veronica’s brows knit together, they’re in agreement.

He tucks his face against her neck to suck and nip at the skin there, and Veronica’s hand travels the length of his arm to drape over his shoulder.

God, they make a nice picture.

That idea in mind, Betty debates the ethics of documenting the moment before making the executive decision of ‘ _fuck it’_ and opening the camera app on her phone. She snaps a few quick still images before she decides to swipe over to video mode and taps the shutter button.

Watching the scene unfold on the screen makes it feel even dirtier. Betty rubs her thighs together, shifting her weight to the other foot, and one of the floorboards creaks beneath her.

Veronica’s eyes shoot open the same time her mouth forms a pretty little ‘O’, and Betty throws a playful smirk. She inhales sharply and claws the top of Jughead’s arm, nails digging into the dark ink there when she comes.

Jughead twists to finally see her standing there, and he looks at her sheepishly. “Sorry. I came out to get some water.”

Betty leaves her phone on one of the accent tables near the entryway and stalks over to the counter. She sidles up behind him and winds her arms around his middle.

“Ah, you being thirsty strikes again,” she quips. Veronica cackles, and Betty hides her smile in Jughead’s back. She plants a kiss between his shoulder blades, and her fingers dip into the front of his boxers. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“When does the actual kinky shit start?”

He and Betty had kind of ganged up on Veronica for the night until she couldn’t handle it anymore, which only led to turning themselves into a frenzied mess. She had already finished and pushed them away, but she strokes herself idly as she watches him drive into Betty.

Jughead stops sucking angry marks onto Betty’s shoulder with one final drag of his teeth, and admires his handiwork before he acknowledges Veronica. “You get threesomes on the regular. Are you not entertained?”

“First of all,” she begins, “don’t ever mention Russell Crowe in bed ever again.”

Betty stops panting into the mattress long enough to snort.

“Second of all, no. Not when I’ve been living with you both for years and I already know the kind of extracurriculars you get up to. Particularly of the loud, buzzing variety.”

Betty makes a pleased hum, though whether it’s due to revisiting a memory or something he’s currently doing, he can’t actually be certain.

She pushes up on to her hands and rasps out, “Juggie, let me turn over,” at the same time that Veronica sings, “Forsythe, hello!”

“Oh my fuck, Ron, you know where everything is. Go look, I don’t care—I’m a little busy here.”

He rolls his hips once more before he pulls out, jacking himself slowly while Betty turns over onto her back. He’s rewarded with the sight of her chest heaving, and his hands instinctually reach out to squeeze her breasts.

Veronica tips forward and touches her mouth to his forearm in a sweet kiss, and moves to roll away. Before she can stand up, he shoots his arm out and hooks his hand behind her ear, sinking his fingers into her hair. He catches her lips with his, and she lets loose a quiet laugh into him.

Distantly, he hears Betty make a noise of contentment.

Veronica’s smiling more than actually kissing him back, though she teases his lips with a flick of her tongue before she pulls away. He presses one more firm peck to her mouth and she gives him a light slap on his ass in retaliation. “Get back to work.”

When she does finally make it off the bed, she picks up her discarded underwear that had been tossed to the floor. Jughead and Betty share a disappointed frown while she pulls them up her legs.

“What,” she asks when she catches them. “You can stare at my ass later. I have things to do.”

Betty pushes against his shoulder and he follows her lead, rolling easily. She kneels over his thighs, and he bites the tip of his tongue when she wraps her hand around his dick to guide him into her. She moans quietly when she slides down his length, her eyes fluttering closed.

Veronica rummages through their nightstand, humming happily to herself all the while.

Betty’s expression is almost pained as she rolls her hips down on his lap, and Jughead slides his hands up and over her thighs to rest on her ass. She’s squeezed her eyes shut, chewing her cheek while she takes what she needs from him.

She cups her breasts in her hands and pulls at her nipples, and Jughead swears at the sight. His hips buck up sharply, and she opens her eyes for a brief moment to grin down at him. He’s overcome by the need to be closer to her so he sits up, using his grip on her ass to pull her flush against him.

“Jug…” Betty whimpers, and his gaze zeroes in on her hand edging between her legs. “Please make me come, please.” She’s flustered. She pulls her lip between her teeth when she circles her clit.

“What do you need, Betts?”

Betty looks away from him, quickly glancing over at Veronica who’s pleased as punch to be rifling through someone else’s belongings.

Jughead frowns, but nonetheless moves closer to her ear so that he can whisper quietly. “What is it, baby? Tell me.”

Betty hesitates, then picks up one of his hands and brings it up her torso, coming to a stop at her neck.

Confused, his gaze flits to Veronica.

“You didn’t…?”

“Not yet, just—”

He nods, “Okay, okay,” and taps her inner thigh. She gets the message and pulls off so he can roll them once more.

She pants up at him when he slips back inside, and her legs wrap around him.

With Veronica to his left, his body blocks most of Betty’s from her view. He arranges his arm near her shoulder and tucks his elbow by the crook of her neck for good measure.

Jughead slides his free hand back up to her neck, thumb and fingers resting on either side of her clavicle.

He compresses only one side – trying to be covert so that they don’t alert their girlfriend is not the time or place to be fucking with both of her carotid arteries. The flat of his palm rests over her throat without adding pressure, just a reassuring weight.

Within seconds, he can feel the calm that overtakes her. Her whole being relaxes and her body melts, boneless, into the bed.

Once he starts rocking against Betty, she shuffles around to touch herself again. When she hits that bundle of nerves, her pussy tightens around his cock and he kisses her desperately.

He squeezes her throat hard and tears spring to her eyes. She rakes her nails over his back, chanting, “Yes, Juggie,” on a gasp.

A flush blooms across her chest and she squirms, her gold hair matting on the sheet. She cries out and he fucks into her harder, hungry to see her come.

“Fuck, Betty, come on.”

He sets his teeth on her jaw, tastes the saltiness of her skin, and she quivers around him just as he starts to spill inside of her. When he tenses above her, Betty’s tight grip milks him dry.

She sucks in a deep breath when he releases her throat, his hand running down her ribcage to stroke her waist.

Jughead could write entire soliloquys about her in seconds, but instead he nuzzles her skin while he slows to a stop.

“Thanks.” She laughs breathlessly and slides a hand over her face. He grins and basks in the love radiating from her. She’s so fucking beautiful.

“Betty Cooper, you little slut!” Veronica squeals in delight, jarring them out of their afterglow.

She looks like a kid in a fucked up candy store. She’s picked out several items that must have caught her fancy, and holds them bundled in her arms.

“Hey!” Betty’s still catching her breath so she looks to Jughead to defend her, while Veronica dumps her bounty at the edge of the bed.

He can recall several instances when she had been quite responsive to him calling her a slut, actually, but he doesn’t think that it’s in his best interest to mention it right now. His dick gives a half-hearted twitch, though. “Well. She’s not exactly _wrong_.”

Betty nips at his lip before soothing the bite with her tongue. “See if I ever peg you again,” she mutters.

Veronica gasps and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Can I?!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Following the absurd and unnecessarily long waiting period, Betty receives her final marks and has officially completed her undergrad.

(She had to harass her registrar somewhat, but her grades _still_ weren’t posted online and she had been losing her mind.)

Veronica dictates that it’s a rite of passage to be celebrated, and Jughead agrees, even though she won’t be walking in the University Commencement until the following spring. It had taken longer than she’d anticipated, but she still feels accomplished and is in a mood to be proud of herself so she lets her partners take her out to dinner.

Veronica helps her get ready by doing her hair and make up, only making herself scarce when Betty kicks her out to slip into her dress – A-line with a tight bodice and wide neckline, certainly showcasing more cleavage than is typical for the embodiment of purity that is Betty Cooper.

Opening the door and seeing their heads turn toward her makes her feel like some kind of debutante coming out to high society. Neither of them say anything, though, and Betty immediately regrets her choice to be so daring until Jughead throws in his two cents.

“Your tits look amazing,” he blurts. “I mean—”

Veronica rolls her eyes but agrees. “He meant your tits look amazing.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? I bought it a while ago but I was too nervous to wear it.” Betty pulls at one of the straps self-consciously, and Veronica shakes her head.

“I think your boobs are deserving of nearly as much praise and admiration as your beautiful mind.”

“Sure, now look who’s bringing up Russell Crowe.”

“I said don’t bring him up in _bed_.”

“I didn’t bring _him_ up. I accidentally quoted _Gladiator_ and you ran with it.”

“Guys,” Betty cuts in impatiently.

“Sorry!” Veronica chirps.

 

 

 

It’s _her_ day, so it stands to reason that she’s allowed to do what she wants.

Plus she’s bored, and slightly tipsy.

When Betty sets her hand on Veronica’s thigh and rubs, she doesn’t even blink. Just shifts her legs apart so Betty can lift her skirt. Takes a deep breath when Betty fingers the edge of her panties.

Betty doesn’t move away when the waiter brings their food, and Veronica glances at her sidelong. Jughead barely has one bite in his mouth before she tugs Betty to her feet.

“Come with me, B.”

“Really? Now is when you’re going to start adhering to the ‘going to the bathroom in pairs’ trope?”

Veronica sighs wistfully. “Sweet, simple Jughead.” Then she’s navigating through the tables and dragging Betty along.

Betty concocts a plan of how they could create a diversion and sneak Jughead into the bathroom too, but then Veronica pushes her against the cubicle wall and crowds into her. She makes sure not to leave an inch of space between them, pressing her breasts against Betty’s, and she grins.

Betty still has to grab her by the back of the neck and drag her in for a kiss, quickly slipping her tongue into her mouth. Then Veronica is reaching up under dress to pull down her underwear, pausing when her hands find only bare skin.

“Oops,” Betty breathes. “I must have forgotten something.”

Veronica crouches without letting her knees touch the floor and has Betty ruck her dress up to her stomach. Her fingers spread Betty open, and when Veronica’s tongue touches her Betty has to bite her own hand to stop from moaning.

Betty catches sight of Veronica’s purse and a lightbulb goes off over her head.

“Your phone—give me your phone.” She left hers back at the table.

Veronica gives Betty a quizzical look but does as requested, then dives back between her legs.

Betty sends a photo to Jughead without a second thought. Veronica chuckles when she realizes, and the vibration on her clit has Betty keening.

Jughead responds quickly but his message is lackluster.

_**9:23** _  
_?_

The picture had been way off kilter, hardly more than Veronica’s hair standing out against the color of the bathroom stall in the background.

_**9:23** _  
_Ops sry qasnt looking_

She makes sure everything is actually in frame this time and holds the phone steady. She doesn’t want to mess up Veronica’s hair so she settles for cupping the back of her head, a tingling sensation in her belly growing as Veronica stares up at the lens, eyes bright.

After she sends the new picture, her head knocks back against the stall.

There are a few excruciating minutes waiting for his reaction, where Veronica keeps her on edge the whole time, relentless on her clit until she’s right about to come, then pulling back to lap at her folds.

_**9:26** _  
_Seriously_

_**9:26** _  
_I wasn’t even invited_

They share a quick, wicked laugh before Veronica’s thumb replaces her mouth.

“Betty?”

“Hm?” Betty rolls her neck and looks down at her with hooded eyes. She seems apprehensive.

“I love you.” Veronica smiles, then bites her inner thigh.

Betty comes so hard she has to reach out and curl her hand over the stall door to stay standing. The beginning of a moan bursts from her throat, and Veronica launches up to silence her with her lips.

Feeling safe enough that Veronica will be able to keep her upright, Betty loosens her grip on the door. She cups Veronica’s cheek and pulls back for a breath, but keeps dropping firm pecks on her mouth.

There are no attempts at concealing her elated smile – it merely grows when the phone in her hand vibrates again.

 

_**9:30** _  
_At least be quick about it I’m almost finished eating_

_**9:30** _  
_I’m going to be here with no dates and no food_

_**9:30** _  
_Only a hard-on to call my own_

_**9:30** _  
_You guys fucking suck_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking this out with me.
> 
> I'm still new to writing so comments and criticisms are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I only came here to write a threesome and this happened instead.


End file.
